Blind

Imagine you are blind.

And your friends take you to Jesus - because surely He can heal you.

And He takes you by the hand, leading you away from all the noise and all the onlookers.

All those people who stare - who have stared at you for your whole life, without you being able to look back.

He stops you on the outskirts of town. Hands on your shoulders, you can feel the rhythm of His breathing. Steady. Deep.

He calls you by name.

But you don't remember telling Him your name.

The next thing you know, He spits on you.

On your eyes.

And the world starts to spin.

Darkness coagulates and shadows dissemble.

A lifetime of sightlessness is suddenly pierced by light.

He wants to know what you see.

Distortion.

Your mind immediately has a name for what your eyes are trying to see.

But the world remains out of focus.

Unclear.

Then Jesus covers your eyes with His hand.

This time, when He pulls away, He doesn't not step aside.

Your vision is restored.

And He is the first thing you see.

-

Imagine you were blind.

And your eyes were opened for the first time in your life.

You had never seen anything before.

Nothing but darkness.

And when your eyes begin to adjust, to focus,

it is His face you see.

His eyes you look into.

His smile you received.

-

He would become your standard.

That, which all else was measured by.